


Reekplacement

by MzyraJane



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mutilation, Rape, Sadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 20:24:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1048204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MzyraJane/pseuds/MzyraJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Reek gets captured during one of his and Ramsay's hunting trips, Ramsay assumes he's been executed. Turns out he's wrong...</p><p>Based on a kinkmeme prompt for Original!Reek and Theon!Reek meeting. It turned out a weird amalgamation of the book characters and the TV storyline, where Ramsay wasn't at Winterfell when Theon took it.</p><p>(Reek/Ramsay for Westeros' creepiest couple! Theon for so much better than this, poor guy.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reekplacement

The moonlight flickered through the trees as Ramsay galloped hard, following the sound of his bitches' barking. The woman wasn't screaming, maybe thought she might get away if she was quiet, but not with Ramsay's girls on her scent. Sooner or later she'd fall or get too tired and then... Then she would scream. Ramsay liked it when they screamed. And Reek liked it when that screaming got cut off, permanently. Reek would be somewhere nearby on his own horse, probably about as hard as Ramsay was getting in anticipation. The wench couldn't last much longer now.

 

Then there was a shout in the darkness - a man's, and not Reek's. Ramsay slowed his horse up a little to listen. Male voices, plural, coming from the left. He directed his horse towards thicker coverage and looked out for some hint of who the men were. Peasants they could kill or capture, provide extra sport, but if they'd strayed too far into another Lord's woods and it was somebody of note... Father would not be happy.

 

Then Ramsay saw them, glints of torches, doubly bright reflecting off good-quality armour. _Fuck_ , proper guardsmen, and riding after the increasingly distant sound of the dogs. Had Reek heard? Hopefully he or the dogs would finish the woman before she could say anything too obviously incriminating. Hopefully Reek would get away, and his bitches come home. But all Ramsay would do was hope, since he valued his head in its current position on top of his neck; too many people would seize upon any opportunity to change that.

 

He waited silently in the dark for some good sign that the fun could continue, or might ever continue again with Reek.

 

He returned home disappointed.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

"Robb Stark is calling the banners. I'm going to Winterfell. In the meantime, you're to be here in my stead."

 

"Lord of the Dreadfort." Well, it _was_ Ramsay's birthright. Almost.

 

His father gave him a familiar cold, appraising look. "Where's your servant?"

 

Captured or dead, and the first would likely lead to the second, if it hadn't done already. "I got bored of him."

 

"I have heard that a man was caught apparently hunting women, just over one of our borders."

 

"Takes all sorts," Ramsay tried to casually shrug. "Was he executed?"

 

"I don't know. I don't care for people who would get caught in such an act." Ramsay had nothing to say to that, he just hoped that his cold stare was so good as his father's.

 

Those were his last words to Ramsay before he left, and the message was clear enough, along with the warnings he'd made before about Ramsay's desire to brutalise the staff and people of the Dreadfort. If he followed his father's will, Ramsay was to endure a very boring war indeed, at least until his father brought home prisoners. He missed Reek. At least Reek would have taken the blame, or even let Ramsay torture him a bit to pass the time. He could get a prostitute, but then he'd want to maim her, might get carried away and kill her, and his father could disapprove so much harder than anybody else in existence. Not to mention holding the possibility of Ramsay's legitimisation in his hands. At this rate Ramsay might be forced to practise flaying _himself._

Fortunately there proved more than enough flayable rats and other small animals with which he made do. Until a raven came from his father.

 

 _Theon Greyjoy has captured Winterfell and killed the Stark boys. Robb Stark wants him taken_   _alive_ _._

Well, that would provide some entertainment for him and the boys. And, as he prepared, possibilities occurred to him. None of the major Lords in the South knew much of what had happened in Winterfell. How should they know the difference between what this Greyjoy had done, and what was done after...?

 

When they rode up and stormed the place it was clear which one Theon Greyjoy was, there in his ironborn armour, like the stupid little  _lordling_ he was. And he had to be stupid, or had some serious balls, to murder his most valuable hostages. Greyjoy remained unconscious for most of the ride back, even with the extra time to burn Winterfell and slaughter all bystanders. It was really a shame Ramsay wouldn't be allowed to claim credit for that.

 

It didn't take too much torturing before Greyjoy confessed that he hadn't killed the Stark boys at all, but had merely  _lost_ them, which confirmed his stupidity and was very disappointing. But before Ramsay could even inform his father of that, he received another raven with a note that contained only a picture of a Lannister lion. He wasn't entirely surprised; Boltons were nearly always waiting in the wings to take the North, and if his father had made an allegiance which would mean they might...

 

But it did leave a question of what to do with Greyjoy. He'd been captured for Robb Stark, but they were no longer on his side. Greyjoy had betrayed Stark, so in theory they could be allies, but Greyjoy hadn't actually killed the Stark boys and was proving to be very, very sorry for what he'd done, so he might turn out to be more on Stark's side than theirs.

Truth be told, Ramsay didn't like Theon Greyjoy. He'd seen him once before in previous years and had heard much as he'd seen, arrogant little shit, smirking and thinking he was so great because his father was a 'King' - for probably less than a year. Ramsay wanted to break the  _prince_ , could probably get away with killing him too. But no, death was boring, better to bring him low. Make him a servant - and Ramsay was lacking in one of those, wasn't he? Greyjoy could never be Reek like _Reek_ was - possibly there was nobody else in all the Seven Kingdoms like Reek was - but Ramsay needed a Reek, was almost incomplete without one by this point, and this opportunity might be just too perfect to pass up.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Reek was starving and cold and _very_ tired. He'd expected the difficult part to be breaking out of the Karhold dungeons, but trying to get back was proving much more difficult. He'd been fortunate in being able to steal a horse, but he was no great navigator and didn't usually go so far into Karstark lands in order to be able to recognise where he was. He could figure East and West from the Sun, but it wasn't always so easy from there, and he needed to be going  _South_ -West to get back home. But he was almost certain he was close now. Unless his mind was playing tricks on him, that had been the Lost River he'd crossed some miles ago, and now he thought he knew the way.

 

Probably nobody had ever been so relieved to see the Dreadfort looming in the distance before. Both he and his horse were in bad shape, but he went for the place as swiftly as possible in any case, just to finally have some shelter. He hoped Ramsay was here to see him.

 

People stared as he rode in, fortunately still recognised by his appearance and, failing that, his smell enough to be allowed in, and he'd run down anyone else who got in his way.

 

"Lord Ramsay here?" he asked of a staring stableboy.

 

The boy nodded, "He'll be in the fort." Reek was glad, Lord Roose might have thrown him in the dungeon here too if Ramsay wasn't around.

 

He staggered through the servants' entrance, almost knocking over a kitchen wench who must have been new, grabbing an armful of food that looked like it was going to waste.

 

"That's not your food-" the wench started to protest.

 

"Hush girl, that's Lord Ramsay's servant." The girl shut up pretty quickly; she had at least enough knowledge to know not to mess with anything that was Lord Ramsay's.

 

"Is Lord Bolton here?" he asked of the cook.

 

"No, he's away fighting in the war."

 

Thank the gods, Ramsay was in charge then. Reek ate and drank his fill as fast as he could and left to find him before he collapsed and slept for a week. Knowing his Lord, Reek first checked the dungeons, in case Ramsay was tormenting some captives, but found it surprisingly empty, though it looked recently used at least - maybe he'd killed them. After the dungeons, it was more likely Reek would find him in his bedchamber than interacting with the people, so he headed up the stairs.

 

When he opened the door there was someone in Ramsay's bed - but it wasn't Ramsay. For a moment Reek thought that, whoever they were, they were very old, but the man just had very white hair, and minus some teeth. "Who are you?"

 

There was fear and apprehension in the man's eyes. "M-m-my n-name is R-Reek."

 

Reek stared.  _What?!_ That couldn't be a coincidence.

 

Then Ramsay walked in, and stared in increasing joy. "Reek! You're alive! Father made me think you'd been killed."

 

Reek was at least gratified that Ramsay was pleased to see him alive. The  _other_  Reek looked very confused. "I was in the Karhold and managed to get out, but the journey was long, milord."

 

"Had I known I would have come out looking for you. It's not been the same without you here."

 

"Milord, this man says his name is Reek."

 

Ramsay's eyes flickered to the man in his bed, and then between the two of them, considering. "I thought you dead."

 

Reek supposed he understood that, but... "He doesn't seem anything like me, milord."

 

"Reek needs Ramsay, Ramsay needs a Reek. This one was quite disobedient for a while, but he knows better than that now, don't you?"

 

The other Reek nodded vigorously, trembling and clutching his hands together - which had fewer fingers than Reek would wager he was born with.

 

"You don't take him out hunting, do you milord?" Reek didn't like this new so-called Reek, taking _his_ place.

 

Ramsay laughed. "Besides the time I had to hunt _him?_ No, he's far too weak for that."

 

"Reek rhymes with weak," the man mumbled. Reek wasn't sure if he was offended.

 

"He doesn't smell right either. He smells  _bad_ , certainly, but I've never managed to make it quite like you."

 

Reek had never been so proud of his odour problem. "What will you do with him now that I'm back, milord?" Kill him, hunt him, banish him to live out the rest of his short life...

 

"Keep him." That wasn't what Reek wanted to hear, especially about a man in Lord Ramsay's bed, little slut had wormed his way into Ramsay's affections in Reek's absence... "He isn't you, but he has his value."

 

"Warming your bed, milord?"

 

Ramsay smirked, "Are you  _jealous_ , Reek? I was thinking you might like to share him." Ramsay grabbed the bottom of the furs on the bed and pulled, exposing the naked man, who squeaked and tried to cover himself, but not before Reek saw it.

 

"You still have impressive handiwork, milord." To tell it true, Reek was aroused by the mutilation. "What does he fuck like?"

 

"Like the little whore that he is." The man was starting to sob silently now.

 

"Does he scream?"

 

"Without too much prodding." 

 

"Does he know how to play dead?"

 

"I'm sure he'll learn, if he doesn't want to find out the hard way. And,  _if he wants to keep **any**  of his teeth_, he'll suck you without any problem either."

 

"I confess I'm very tired, milord, and pickings were slim in the Karhold dungeons and the journey back..."

 

Ramsay understood. "You," he ordered at the man and gestured towards the end of the bed. The man shook as he shuffled down there, and Reek went to lie on the bed, unlacing his breeches. "Show him what a well-behaved little slut you are."

 

The man didn't look happy, but he set to sucking Reek's cock in any case. He wasn't terribly good at it and he kept sniffling from where he was half-crying, made even worse when Ramsay unlaced himself too and forced himself into the man from behind with very little preamble. The pained look on new-Reek's face mixed with Ramsay's dark lust above him was possibly the best thing Reek had ever seen that didn't involve a corpse. "Nobody said you could stop," he spat at the man, who resumed his sloppy sucking. He still wasn't the most skilled Reek had ever had, and this wasn't even Reek's usual kind of thing, but focusing on the pain the man was in, Ramsay's handiwork on the man's hands and the gap between his legs, and Ramsay brutally fucking away above him - Reek roughly grabbed the man's lifeless hair and pulled his head down so far that he was choking on his cock as Reek came, even harder for the idea that he might die choking on him.

 

The man coughed and spluttered when Reek let go, come escaping his mouth in his effort to breathe. Ramsay pulled him upright by his torso. "Swallow it down, you know better than that." The man did his best, and was rewarded by Ramsay fucking him still harder, holding him tightly around the stomach with one hand, while the other felt at the scarring on his crotch. Until Ramsay came too, biting hard enough to draw blood where the man's neck and shoulder met.

 

The man was thrown back down onto the bed, where he curled up crying again.

 

"So, shall we keep him?"

 

"It's not my decision to make, milord," he said as diplomatically as he could muster.

 

"No, but I want to know what you think anyway."

 

Reek supposed he wasn't so bad, and Ramsay clearly wanted him. "I guess when Winter comes it might get hard to go out hunting, good to be able to stay in and use him instead."

 

Ramsay smirked as he picked up a collar chained to the end of the bed and brought it over towards the man. "He knows that Winter is coming better than most."

 

"But must he be called Reek?  _I'm_ Reek, your Reek."

 

"Yes, that might get confusing. Reek is too good a name for him." Ramsay considered as he pulled the man into a position where he could collar him, and then his face broke into a malevolent grin. "Winter is Coming - why don't we call you Stark? You'd like that, wouldn't you?" The man just kept crying.

 

He hadn't stopped by the time Reek and Ramsay went to sleep. It was one of the best night's sleep Reek had ever had.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry Theon.
> 
> By the way, if you've read/followed any of my prior series, they're not really dead, I just got a full time job a few months ago and it has been devouring my time like a hungry direwolf. Hopefully I'll get around to updating them again eventually, especially since I got the GoT DVDs for my birthday and have been more in the mood again.


End file.
